


Rrrrrrrrrrr

by lindt_barton



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dog BB-8, Fluff, Modern AU, Multi, Set in London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindt_barton/pseuds/lindt_barton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First, BB-8 finds Poe. </p><p>Rey, in a stage whisper: "You found the Sexy Angel's dog!?"</p><p>Finn drops his head into his hands, "Please stop calling him that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rrrrrrrrrrr

Oo lampost hm 3, 2, 1 wee

Sniff, sniff, sniff, corner: 3, 2, 1 wee, right turn

Master Poe!

Hello Master Poe! How are _you are not Master Poe._ Retreat five paces.

**Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr**

Where is Master Poe? You Will Tell Me Where Master Poe Is Or You Will Suffer.

“What the-” Finn pulls out his earphones. Some shin-height hairy gremlin is growl-barking up at him.

Finn looks about. No one else is here.

He flaps his hands, “Shooo,” and the white and tan hell beast kicks its heels like a shrunken bull ready to charge at his shins. Finn checks the streets again, expecting a flustered owner to arrive and get rid of it at any moment. They don’t. It barks another three times.

Finn’s phone chimes: wenr u home babe i need chineeez. Rey texts like she spent her life in a deserted wasteland with no one to teach her proper spelling. Maybe the gremlin wants Chinese too.

Finn waves the carrier bag of takeaway at its head as if he would actually hit it, “Bugger off. You ain’t gettin’ any.” The dog barks on.

And then it starts raining. The clouds have been threatening all afternoon. “Oh _hell_ no!” he yells at the sky, starts stomping homeward and tries to ignore the dog which is most definitely still barking it’s ugly _bloody_ head off.

In the seven minute walk back he manages to pass three different old ladies. Hood up, shoulders hunched, head down except to give each a _hello_ smile when they give him a funny look, as if this situation absolutely nothing to raise an eyebrow at. Two of the ladies tut over his shoulder.

It would have taken five if he hadn’t felt some odd sort of pity when it started wheezing to keep up with him.

Finn hopes hiding in their little terraced house will make it forget that he exists. Find some other poor sod to harrass. He cracks the door open and slides in leaving no room for a dog to follow. “Rain,” he says while nodding backwards when Rey gives him a funny look from the couch.

She’s wrapped herself all up in a ratty blanket, watching telly in the half dark, too lazy to get up for the light. He flicks the switch. Hangs his jacket. Plops each container of Chinese on an empty space on the coffee table. Then he plonks himself beside Rey and steals a forehead kiss while she finds her share. She’ll never eat all of it, because she orders with her stomach, but that’s fine, cause Finn knows to order less and finish with her leftovers.

Rey freezes and stares at nothing, a slight tilt to her head, listening, “What was that?”

“Hrm?” he plays innocent. _Borf, borf_ mumbles the door. He pretends to watch the telly, while his ears sweat guiltily. Rey glares, suspicious, at the side of his head before stalking to the door. She grabs her old hockey stick on the way.

She whips the door open, stick half ready and hidden behind the door. “Bo-ouueff..?” the dog trails off mid-bark.

“Oh,” says Rey. She crouches with gentle out stretched hands and fixes its inside-out ear, mutters, “Better,” to herself. Rey watches the dog sniff her hand, then around her feet and along a trail into the living room, towards their boots, below the coat hooks. It plants two paws on the wall and whines at Finn’s jacket. Just out of reach.

Rey stares at Finn as she pulls his jacket off the wall in exaggerated slow motion. It had in fact, not been his jacket until two weeks previous when some guy forgot his jacket _on_ Finn in a club. All that had been in the pockets was a kazoo, a thimble, a weird half moon shaped amulet, swabs. And a plum.

A stage whisper: “You found the Sexy Angel’s dog!?”

Finn drops his head into his hands, “Please stop calling him that.”

“But Finn!” she gestures as if gripping his shoulders from across the room, and he sits up as if he can feel it. There’s a fiery glee in her eyes. (The one that keeps Finn up at night fearing for the world’s safety), “This is how we find him!”

The dog moves to plant its feet on Rey’s shins, and restarts whimpering.

“No no no no no,” rapid fire pleas fall from Finn’s mouth as he scrambles across the room to swat her away from the dog. Too late. Rey has bent down to give the dog the jacket. She reads the little copper tag hanging from the dog’s orange leather collar while it buries its nose in the jacket to sniff every milimetre of the fabric. She frowns, “Baxter Bailey the… eighth..?”

Finn repeats firmly, “No.”

“I think I’ll call you Gary for short.”

It’s too late.

He sits on the floor learning back against the coffee table. She has settled in front of him with her legs crossed to pet the dog that is now curled up in the jacket. Finn reaches backwards for a spring roll and sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to tigersinlondon for cheering me on :*


End file.
